


The Moon on a string, everything

by Illidria



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Motherhood, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Teen Pregnancy, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-01-30 05:27:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21422923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illidria/pseuds/Illidria
Summary: To be from a wealthy and important family, to fall pregnant so young... Yet, the few choices given to Olivier are not what she wants, as it is not freedom, truth, or even her daughter. But bravery had always been what gave her mother a headache, made her father fear for her. And now it would be what paved the way to a life on her own terms, the one thing she still dared to hope for. Her daughter in her arms, she would not let them take her, not let them pass her off as their own.Yeah, I don't know what has gotten into me either *shrugs*
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	1. Meetings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DayandKnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayandKnight/gifts).

> Yeah, ya'll can blame DayandKnight and me for always coming up with angsty stuff together. For real, I wrote this in my break, because the angsty idea super-stuck with me ;)

The looks she was given whenever her baby cried were the worst of it all.

Last she’d seen herself in a mirror in that old ladies’ house, had looked horrible and pallid then. Knew that she could only look worse now, not having been able to properly wash herself for two days, except for at the occasional well. Had barely been able to care for her hair, too long to properly wash and brush with only one hand.

Did not dare to let go of her baby girl.

Was bobbing her daughter softly, with a hand supporting the little head. Cooed, though had to admit that she was close to keeling over. Got more looks, most of the men in the train carriage giving her the stink eye, some of the women too. Few gazes were sympathetic, the whispers ringing in her ears.

_“Little whore, can’t be a day older than sixteen!”_

_“No wonder she’s alone on the train, that young and already a child…”_

_“See the rings under her eyes? Probably using, how would anybody else get a child that young?”_

Tried not to listen to it, but it was hard.

Almost as hard at staying awake, because she didn’t know when she’d last slept properly. Maybe right after the birth, when the nurses had cared for the child that night? She’d been so exhausted…

Right after though she’d been on the run with her girl, had stolen a few things she knew she’d need and had been out and about. At the old ladies’ house she’d slept a few hours, before helped towards the train station, money pressed into her hands and the warning echoing in her ears to not get caught.

The train thundering towards Central City, the nervousness rising like bile in her throat, had kept her from resting. Her fussy baby girl too, the fact that nursing her seemed to be so much harder than anticipated. Managed still, though when hurrying through Central Station, towards the train North, trying so hard to keep her head down… The first hours of the ride she’d not been able to relax at all.

Had decided on North City on a whim, after buying diapers this the furthest place from Central she could afford.

Her baby girl fussed up again, starting to cry once more. She bobbed her up and down again softly, feeling the diaper and finding it empty. Nursing her little one had refused too, numerous times already, nothing truly seemed to help these past few hours, if she was honest. Not to mention that she was so nervous still, tired too, the muscles in her arms burning from holding her little one for so long. Could still not bear to lay her down though, albeit the seat next to her being free.

Could not risk her being whisked away.

The train stopped in a small village, people shuffling in and some shuffling out. More and new dirty looks directed at her. Heard more people talking amongst themselves too and caught something that did not seem to be directed against her, but at another young man trying to find a place to sit.

“…controls in North City. Whoever leaves the station is looked over. Searching for someone or something…”

Her stomach dropping deeper, towards the pain that was her lower body. Still bleeding, though the nurses had said that this was normal. Was thankful to at least be spared someone sitting next to her, getting close-up dirty looks, her crying daughter scaring people aware effectively.

Until a young man approached her, them that was.

“Is this seat taken?”

Shook her head no, preoccupied herself with bobbing her daughter more, the little one quietening down again a bit. Leaning against her chest, still mewling though. Ignored the looks she was given from this close up, though still turned when spoken too.

“Little mite is still pretty fresh, huh?”

Looked at the young man, maybe a year older than her, if even. Ishvalan, that was easy to see, the dark glasses not fooling her, his skin still dark and the wisps of hair white. Smiled though, kindly, regarding her daughter with a warm look.

She decided that he didn’t mean his words maliciously.

“Few days old only.”

Nodded, gave her a once-over with hidden eyes. She turned, too tired to care anymore. North City would take all of her strength, if they were searching for her… but maybe that wasn’t it she reminded herself. The military police could be searching for another person, maybe a murderer or other criminal again. Calmed herself with that.

Looked out of the window, the world passing by fast again, landscape turning whiter with snow gradually, the further they got north. Felt her eyes grow heavy, breathed deeply. And jerked, when she felt her daughter being moved in her arms.

Glared at the young man, hand on her daughters’ head slowly drawn away when she raised her own again, to support the little head. Felt the shame pull at her heart and bring colour to her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, you were falling asleep.”

Rearranged her baby girl in her arms, still chewing on her tongue when the little one started to mewl louder once more, almost crying again. The young man’s voice was very warm again.

“She knows how exhausted you are and can’t rest. Sleep, I’ll watch over you two, she’ll quieten down then too.”

Smiled at her, at her mistrust. Yet, that was not enough to convince her.

“If the MPs…”

Lowered his glasses in her direction, red irises clear to see. Did not ask any questions, though still spoke against her fussy daughters sounds, smiling still.

“We’re in the same boat then. I’ll keep watch. Your tickets are where, should they come over while you rest?”

Pointed at her one bag, nodded at him, deciding to trust. Not feeling like she had much grounds to not to, the worst that could happen that she would get a few moments of rest. Could still scream Ishvalan and point at him, should push come to shove.

Sat down differently, a cradle for her daughter. Rested her against her chest again, put her feet on her bag and put her hands on her little girls back, not having to support her head especially that way. Felt herself go under quickly, falling into a fitful sleep.

* * *

People were looking at him thankfully when it got more and more dark outside, as if he was the sole reason the baby on the train carriage had quieted down.

He’d only provided the young woman with a chance to rest, by simply being a barrier between her and others, by being a living fence to keep her baby from falling, should it maybe get out of her grip for whatever reason. Their mutual and sleepy silence holding for well over four hours now, which especially the young woman seemed to have needed desperately.

Yet, he felt horrible, with the blue coat walking down the quiet rows now probably having to wake her up soon.

“Tickets please.”

A tall man, maybe in his early to late thirties. Blonde hair, uniform embellishments marking him as a Captain. Spoke quietly to the people before him, let people sleep when other could show him their tickets it seemed. A few rows in front of him someone asked the Officer a question, which wasn’t hard to overhear in the quiet of the train.

“We heard of there being controls in North City. Was there another threat made by the separatists again?”

The Military man had a kind voice, deep and even. Looked around before he spoke, apparently gauging how much he could say. After a moment, he answered, smiling.

“Nothing of that sort Sir, just a missing person report. Most get through completely unchecked, because the description is very clear.”

Was thanked, while he got out his ticket, the one of the woman sleeping next to him too. The Officer inching closer and closer, still quiet and seemingly trying to be even more quiet, when finally reaching their row. He handed over the tickets wordlessly.

Noticed that they were more carefully looked at, that the young woman next to him was given a good look by the Military Officer. That the pale hand holding the sleeping baby tight and safely was noted, seen with almost soft eyes. With a kind of understanding he’d dare to say.

“The kiddo is pretty fresh, huh?”

He smiled again, met with one too. Knew that the colour of his skin was noted that the Officer had taken an interest, for whatever reason, in the young mother next to him. Thought quickly.

“Only a couple of days Sir. Wanna visit her grandma in North City, her health’s failing quick. Want her to meet her great-granddaughter.”

A nod, tickets handed back to him.

“Well, that’s very kind of you, must be hard to travel with a newborn. The south entrance of the Main Station is not controlling, as only the locals use it. Though I bet you know this, having visited your lovely wife’s grandma often.”

Smiled when he left, patting him on the shoulder.

Not knowing if that man was to be trusted, what was even really going on here, he turned once more. Read the plaque on the Officer’s uniform, trying to burn it into his memory. Maybe it could be useful, however things went when he got out in North City.

* * *

He’d looked away when she began nursing her daughter, North City almost reached.

Felt a bit better, had slept as well as one could on a packed train. Her little one was calm now, had slept too, drank almost greedily and did not torture her as much as usual with chewing on her nipple with her gums. Yet, the dust of red on the young Ishvalans face was kind of funny.

“Was everything alright while I slept?”

Morning had not dawned when she’d woken up, but with the city so close, most had risen already, were unpacking small breakfasts. It made her stomach growl, yet she had nothing with her. She’d need to look in North City.

A nod and another smile. Those seemed to come easily to the young man’s face.

“Yeah, though we should be careful when getting out the train. Are searching for someone the Officer controlling the tickets said. Told him that we’re visiting your grandma.”

She was stunned.

“You what?!”

The anger in her voice having her baby girl unlatch, hastily rearranging her and coaxing her into drinking again. She’d taken so little during their first train ride to Central, she was sure that babies needed to drink much more!

“I had to, I’m sorry. Told me to take the southern entrance to the station with you, they don’t control the locals it seems. Looked at you a long time, you maybe know any MPs?”

Shook her head, eyes on her daughter who greedily drank again. Her eyes so big and blue, fixed on her. Blonde hair fine and curly, like little wisps of a dandelion. Took her time to answer.

“A few. Did you maybe catch the guys name? Or can describe him?”

It was refreshing to not be asked a barrage of questions, though she could see them in his form, how he held them all back. Remaining factual with the city fast approaching.

“Captain Hermann. Tall, blonde, deep voice.”

Nodded, a small smile coming to her face almost unbidden.

“Then we better heed his advice.”

Silence for many moments, her daughter drinking until seemingly full. Tried to balance her on her knees while buttoning up again, though when the young man next to her extended his hands, she was bewildered for a moment.

“Wha…?”

“I can take her, while you straighten your clothes. Start with burping her.”

Though about it for a moment, though only a small one. She’d slept, he’d lied to keep them safe, if only to maybe safe himself. Yet, it had done the trick.

“What’s your name?”

Little hesitation.

“Miles. Yours?”

“Olivier. Go ahead, I’ll take her in a moment.”

Buttoned up the ill-fitting blouse, pulled the socks up again that had slipped in her shoes. Finger-combed her hair, before turning towards Miles and her daughter.

The Ishvalan burping her softly against his shoulder, looking like he knew what he was doing.

“You really know a thing or two about babies it seems.”

Her baby girl burping loudly, somehow, after all the screaming and crying from before, now pulling a smile from the very same people that had been annoyed before.

“Lots of much younger siblings.”

The baby against him starting to fuss again quickly though, with an easy move her daughter in her arms again, quietening down almost instantly.

Miles face still a smile when he spoke, the City rushing past them now, while the put-on coats and got ready to head out. Olivier’s stomach in knots again when nervousness rose once more, only partially put to rest by his words, unknowing as they were.

“Clearly likes her Mom best though.”

When she smiled back, the breaks screeching, it was shaky at best.


	2. Naming

Miles easily fell back into the rhythm of not having a rhythm.

The baby girl was giving them directions when to rest, when to eat and when to use the sparse time to wash up or get anything else important done. She was in charge, simple as that, though Miles was thankful that this little diapered despot was a kind one.

Letting her mother rest pretty long times in-between feedings, being calm during diaper-changes, only demanding that they happen quickly after the fact. She burped easily, slept deeply and as long as her mother was calm, baby girl was too.

Also, she was much less perturbed by her lack of name than him.

“Here.”

There was distaste on Olivier’s face when he handed her the little book. Not that her narrowed eyes and the full lips drawn into a thin line were a particularly new expression, as it had settled on her face the second he’d started to unpack his backpack in their small motel room. Not really pleased that he’d bought some things for the baby it seemed, though Miles doubted that this was it in truth. Or rather only a part of the problem.

This motel was kind of a dirty place, though Oliver had cleaned up the worst of it quickly together with him when baby girl had fallen asleep on the larger of the two beds, guarded by a bunch of pillows around her. Not that Miles even felt the need to worry much, as she was far too young to turn on her own. Had been allowed to change her, the sight of the short part of drying umbilical cord making things even more clear to him.

Fresh did barely describe just _how_ little time had gone by since baby girls’ birth.

“Why are you buying me this?! I can get…”

Sure, he didn’t know Olivier well, or long, or at all, but Miles had quickly understood that there were at least some troubles expressing certain emotions. And when unpacking things for the baby, she’d reacted with anger, but he’d also seen a bit of embarrassment. A hint of gratitude.

But with this book for her?

“It cost a few cenz at the bookstore, I thought you could maybe use it. Or do you have a name in mind already? Didn’t mean to offend.”

Another huff, baby girl rearranged while nursing, the sight still forcing a tiny blush on his face.

“No, but I don’t need you to buy us stuff, you…”

He let her rant. Not because he felt like lording his money over her, a tiny bit not much more than almost nothing. But because he understood where she was truly coming from. Fear the first thing he’d seen in her form, as well as her braveness going hand in hand with it. It was there again, when he mentioned the bookstore.

And decided to be honest right now, because he felt that it was the right thing to do after sitting on the train with her, following her through the train station, renting a motel room with her. Because really, to an extent they were in the same boat.

“This is about me seeing newspapers, right?”

Noticed her grip around her daughter tightening, bravery so strong again. She almost spat her answer after two seconds of silence.

“You plan on ratting me out?”

Miles couldn’t help the laughter, growing stronger at her irritated expression.

“What’s so funny?!”

“There’s nothing to rat you out on, that’s so funny! They claim you stole your sister, right out of her crib!”

Baby girl was undisturbed by them, nursing with little fists pressing against her mothers’ breast. It was a calming sight to him almost, just because this little girl seemed so content, however hard the life around her was.

“And? Everybody is after me now, I’ve seen the papers back in Central, they…”

“Olivier”, Miles had to be warm, just had to be kind, because for a second it was clear to him again how scared she had to be, “you are nursing her. That’s not something big sisters usually can do, even if planning on kidnapping their newborn sisters.”

Felt his face grow a bit redder again, though pushed it down. Smiled once more instead, hoped that it was reassuring and not a grimace, like usual.

“They also claim that baby girl is already two weeks old, which simply doesn’t add up. The umbilical cord would in most cases be gone by then, or at least be pitch black and dry. Hers isn’t.”

Glaring daggers at him, though he saw a bit of the fear leave, mistrust remaining.

“And you want to tell me _what_ with that?”

Locked onto her blue eyes, the rings under them still dark, skin still pallid. A stony mask.

“That this is without a doubt your child. That you’re doing everything you can for her. And that we need to get you out of your families reach, because whatever happened, they made up a new story.”

There was no muscle in Olivier’s face moving, though she seemed to take his words as sincere. Judging by the way she settled against the bed’s headboard again at least, baby girl nursing while she wordlessly picked up the small book he’d gotten. Read the title quietly, opening it with one hand.

“A thousand sweet baby names – find the perfect name for your perfect child. Pfft, like there is a name as perfect as her!”

Baby girl looking at her mother while filling up her little tummy, like him barely processing it seemed, just how much her mother loved her.

* * *

“You listen now!”

Spoke slowly, because goddamn, her patience was gone completely. Saw with satisfaction how the man cowered a little, clearly not having expected this outburst from her.

“I know what this locket is worth! I know that you know what that locket is worth! And yes, I also know how dangerous this locket will be to sell, which makes it worth even more!”

Got a little closer, forced herself to not be distracted by the short hair tickling her chin. Instead breathed deeply once, giving her words time to take effect.

“You’ll give me as much as you have here, you’ll still turn an enormous profit and you’ll keep your mouth shut for a few months. That’s all I ask of you, for making the deal of your life. You in?”

Miles was outside, held her baby girl tight and safe, because she’d not wanted to draw too much attention on herself in this pawn shop, even though no other customer was in. They’d changed her hair up to make her less recognizable after all, to maybe have this guy think that she’d just gotten this locket by chance.

Which wasn’t working, she could tell, but she was sure she’d get the needed money regardless.

“Deal!”

Started to count money, while she stared the sweaty man down.

Miles had bought stuff for her daughter, diapers and powder, a few changes of clothes. Had paid for the motel room too. Yet, after almost two days Olivier felt the need to leave, her gut telling her to not grow complacent now. Together had agreed on further north, Miles had spoken of a camp of Ishvalans up there, had said they’d help protect her too.

Had decided that she would wait and see, but that being away from the thoroughly searched city would be good for a while.

And for that she needed money, to pay back Miles, to get them tickets north, because he had little to nothing left too. To get a handful of things for her baby girl. To have cash on hand, because nothing would get you through the border to Drachma faster, if push came to shove.

“Here.”

Was handed stacks, checked them and recounted. Did not need to tell the man what would happen if he talked, because that would be his end as well, by buying something of a searched criminal. Guilty or not.

Left the shop after another look, money in the inner lining of her coat. Took her daughter from Miles, wondering when it had become so easy to slip her into her half-opened coat, keeping her bundled up warm and tight. Walking in silence together with the Ishvalan, outside dark shades on his nose once more.

People looking at her in the store they went to, though only for a moment. The shortened hair was doing its trick, though she could feel her still straight bob slowly draw up into tight curls. Barely recognized herself when looking into the mirrors all over, hair dark brown now, even if that would only hold for a few showers. Some smiled at her, or rather her baby girl.

She could not fault them that, as her daughter was just perfect.

When picking out stuff in silence, mostly to be safe and have everything she could need for the possible next weeks of travels, she tried not to think about how every single one of her questions about care had been rebuffed at the facility. The nurses there had already known that she wouldn’t get her promised chance.

Walked through the city with Miles a few minutes later again, pace leisurely, because that seemed to make the eyes of the numerous MPs skip them. In the thrift store they went to next finding a few more clothes for her baby girl, another book about how to care and what to do. A warm hat that was too cute to leave there, a pair of tiny boots made from caribou hide, that the clerk gave her for not even a handful of cenz.

“She’ll grow into them just in time. And a good pair of boots is hard to come by, so take them.”

A nudge from Miles had her carelessly pick out a pair of pants for herself, as well as a few pullovers, a few tops. All fitting into her backpack still, which would be full when back at the motel, their few things left there still needing to be packed. The next train further north set to roll out in a couple of hours.

The motel still dingy, dirty and smelling kind of bad, though they packed their stuff up quickly, the warmth at least a good thing. Her little one up again after having slept through their whole city trip, milk leaking in tune with her yawns. Got rid of her coat, lay down to nurse this time, once more inwardly laughing at the dust of red on Miles cheeks.

He was chatting away with her, still kind of an enigma to her, because there was no sense as to why he helped them. Yet, she was glad.

With her baby girl latching on, she felt her concentration switch towards her daughter, which the Ishvalan always seemed to notice right away. Dug out the book with the baby names again, reading the more ridiculous once aloud.

It hadn’t been long, but he’d arranged himself with her inability to choose.

After what seemed like hours, a quick burp which Miles seemed to have mastered, Olivier decided to wash up. Did so quickly, as always eager to get back to her baby. Tried to pay the small rivulets of blood little mind, nor her stomach still sticking out somewhat, looking almost lumpy, even if having shrunken significantly. At least she didn’t need to pee every ten minutes anymore.

Felt thankful to Miles once more, when in the new clothes feeling a bit better, more clean than she’d felt since before giving birth.

And got out of the small en suite just as a knock sounded on their door. Followed by it being opened, spare key clearly having been given out by the clerk, because Olivier knew she’d locked behind them. Felt her body jump into action, grabbed the weird vase on the little table by the door, pushed the person coming in against the wall and forced the door shut with a kick.

Out of the corner of her eye saw Miles, picking her daughter up and holding her tightly, safely, one hand searching for the knife she’d seen at his belt.

“Kiddo?”

“Hermann?!”

Did not loosen her hold on him, vase ready to strike. His eyes wide open, voice calm though. Spoke clearly, with the honesty she’d so often heard, and which had her let go.

“Thank the heavens you two are safe!”

Stood back, the vase still in her grip, just looking at him.

* * *

“She looks like you!”

The little girl was warm, soft and beautiful, a carbon copy of her mother, as far as a newborn could be. Had fallen asleep in his arms quickly, his big kiddo not having hesitated when putting her own kiddo in his arms.

Had believed him, still so very good at seeing right through people, him included.

“You father asked for me specifically when calling Northern HQ again, hoping that I could be of help in finding you. But after seeing you two on the train… however much you always loved your sibling’s kiddo, you two here share a different bond.”

Handed the little one over again, the dark spots speaking of leakage having tipped him off in the train, but also how changed her body looked. The tiredness that couldn’t just come from a day or two on the run, that she seemed to be unreachable these past few months.

The knowledge that Olivier’s mother was the most ruthless woman Hermann had ever met.

“How did you find us?”

Looked so different again, the signs of pregnancy still to see, though she looked a little bit less tired, the changed hair making her face seem so much sharper and older than in the papers. It had been a good decision made by her, just like saving her daughter truly was.

“I knew who to look for. Which doesn’t mean you, or your beautiful daughter, but him.”

Pointed at the young man that had introduced himself as Miles, clearly an Ishvalan with his eyes as red as blood.

“You are still searched for by the way, though it is handled as low priority. Which still makes me wonder though, did you…?”

“NO!”

Mouthed sorry silently not a second after his outburst, the Ishvalans worried gaze on the sleeping baby which didn’t even flinch. Olivier’s interest though, seemed piqued.

“_What_ didn’t you do?”

It confused him that Olivier hadn’t pressed the reasons for the young mans travel from him yet, though Hermann could also understand that she was kind of preoccupied with other things. And as far as he’d seen, Miles had not yet done anything that deserved suspicion.

“The separatists attacked a church in my hometown. People thought I did it and my family had me flee. I swear though, I didn’t do anything! I’m the only one in my family that even looks ishvalan, besides my grandfather!”

A nod from Olivier, though Hermann simply knew that the boy would be pressed further as soon as she had half a mind for it and a bit of time. Decided to return to more urgent matters again though, simply because time was of the essence.

“You not having done that aside, because the military there has gotten ahold of the culprits, what is your plan from here on out? You cannot stay in this motel, all major cities are combed in search for you, Olivier, and for your daughter. And the military is still searching for you too Miles, because they want to question you. Which is a ploy, because I’ve never seen a questioned ishvalan leave the base standing up.”

There was silence for a few moments, though Hermann had seen the packed backpacks, had followed them when buying essentials, watching them. They were already ready to go.

Olivier’s voice as decisive as ever.

“Further North. I procured money for tickets and we’ll take the next train this evening.”

Nodded, the plan as good as any and at least their direction out of the way.

“Little military there, as Drachma hates it if there’s too much manpower close to the border. You’ll need to be careful on the train though.”

Saw in the kiddos blue eyes that she knew that, was ready to do everything that needed to be done. Suddenly a far cry from the rebellious teen he’d gotten to know. However horrible the circumstances, the was things had happened, he felt pride in his heart for knowing her. She was strong.

“You’ll need papers to keep your daughter safe when searched. The fact you nurse her will lead most MPs to overlook you when checking the train carriages, ‘cause the case is so different from what they were briefed about. But the more curious ones…”

Pulled the folded paper from his pocket, heavy and thick. Miles sucked in a breath at his side.

“How did you get that? How did you get an empty one?!”

The birth certificate had nothing more written on it than the official stuff, already signed by the head of the census though. The small folder underneath having Olivier smile on his other side.

“Pam helped you, your girlfriend.”

“Slipped it onto the heads desk, distracting him with a bit of small talk. Says that this is for introducing us at that boring function years ago. Fill it out, the certificate Pam will get into the archive and the papers are for you to take. Should someone double-check and call back, everything will be in order.”

There were tears in her eyes, though only a hint of them. Instead she nodded, carefully placed her sleeping daughter on the bed, nothing more than a small mewl escaping the child. Olivier sitting down at the table, filling out the papers with care.

Though soon there was hesitation, which prompted Hermann to stand up and read over her shoulder. The only thing empty still the slot for the baby girl’s name.

“You’ve decided on a name yet, right?”

Miles groan tipped him off about the controversial nature of the topic.

The clock ticking though, a small book handed to Olivier by the Ishvalan, the way she bit her lip, suddenly looking so young again… it was nothing more than a few seconds of hesitation, of leafing through the book, before she started to write. Loopy and slanted to the right, even though writing with her left.

Hermann read aloud, before folding up the birth certificate.

“Catherine Elle. Beautiful choice Kiddo.”

Watched, as Olivier gathered her daughter in her arms again, pressing a kiss to the baby girl’s forehead. Almost whispering.

“Hello my little Catherine Elle.”


	3. In-between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY DEAR :D  
LOVE YOU! <3<3<3

“Damn, that’s great technique dude!”

Miles carefully closing up the adhesive part of the diaper, making sure that it was tight, but not too much. Catherine passive during the change, always very calm and quiet as soon as the air hit her body and she knew that the loudly desired diaper change was happening. Stuck a bit of the excess paper away from the darkening umbilical cord rest, so it wouldn’t get irritated, and started on re-dressing the little one.

Allowed himself to turn towards the stout man, almost twice his age he guessed. Beaming up at him and Miles smiling back, a bit flattered.

“Thank you.”

Eyes on Cathy again, closing little buttons and helping tiny hands through the openings of her tiny sleeves. The man next to him speaking kindly, though respectfully keeping his distance.

“Congratulations to such a wonderful daughter! Still fresh, huh?”

Bundles the little one up against his chest, while calm also squirming around a bit, almost mewling. The other, Miles was pretty sure that he’d seen him on the train, with a few kids in tow, smiled once more.

“And a mommy’s girl?”

Nodded, throwing away the old diaper with one hand, while looking once more if he’d repacked the bag completely and not missed something on the changing table.

“Yeah and yeah. Only a few days old, but the Doc had said that we should go to the big City for the birth. Hospital being safer and such. And a mommy’s girl if there ever was one. Though really, she’s warming up to me.”

Winked, faked a laugh, noticing gladly that it resonated.

Olivier and he had gotten plenty odd looks on the train, though up until now passed through undetected, weird pair that they were. But more and more it became clear to him that this wasn’t really the reason for all the gazes on them. Or rather Olivier, because the brunt he knew was on her.

They looked young.

He a bit less, having grown tall, noticed about himself how sharp his features had become, the beard-stubble only slowly growing, still giving him an air of adulthood. Olivier though, beautiful and poised, regal almost, still looked the sixteen years she was. Not immediately, but when gazes lingered on her, realization hitting people.

It had gotten less the more rest she got, but the big eyes, the smallness of her frame. All a bit unfinished, like there was some growing to do still. Sure, their hair-dye job had helped, the new cut. Immensely even, but it wasn’t enough to keep tongues in check when it came to whispering about a teenaged mother.

Left the bathrooms of the train station again, their stop surely soon ending. Waved at the man he’d just talked to when parting ways, searching for Olivier and not having to look far, as she was leaning on the pillar closest to the door he was coming out of with Catherine in his arms.

Handed her over with a kind smile, always fond of just how expertly the little baby was bundled up against her mother, with sure movements and an ease showing. Yet, her hands always evading his at the same time, his travel companion not at all fond of touches. Olivier waving a hand in front of his face, tipping him off about the fact that he’d clearly not listened while watching her kiss Cathy on the head, then replacing her lips with the tiny hat they’d bought in North City. Blamed in on the bears ears sown on it.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“If she was fussy, if everything was alright?”

In passing people looked, most on the platform the same people as in their train carriage. Yet, Miles noted that when people thought that they were together, talking calmly and caring for the baby as a team, the nasty looks greatly decreased. The inquiring looks too, because he’d heard in every single restroom ‘till up here, that the news of the supposed abduction had spread.

“Everything as it should be, and you know she’s always a little angel during diaper changes. If that distaste for a full diaper remains, we’ll have her potty trained shortly after she can walk. Wanted to be back with you right after though, she’s a real mommy’s girl.”

Smiled, Olivier smiling back in a way he noticed to be a bit fake, but also a bit real.

Had mutually decided on acting like a couple, Hermann having advised them about that too, as it would decrease suspicion. Just as not Olivier changing her in public would, especially alone in the women’s bathrooms, with every single woman who had or cared about kids on the lookout for what was described as a fumbling teenager with an about two weeks old baby.

Chuckling inwardly, because Miles knew how that had backfired with Olivier and Cathy there being nothing at all that looked like a teen-mom fumbling around. Sure, one could sometimes see the inexperience, but also great care and the ability to learn amazingly fast. And the little one in no way looking two weeks old, especially with the rest of the umbilical cord there as their saviour, always and as a sure-fire way deflecting all suspicion.

The train whistling, all people moving back inside the train again, them too. Miles letting Olivier again slip into the window seat, having noted that while she had little qualms with nursing in public, it still seemed to be more relaxing when less people could watch. And heavens, he’d noticed so many pervs wherever they went.

Their coats shed, all of them getting cosy for the last long leg of this train journey. No more stops, but almost twelve hours of a ride ahead of them, snow pilling higher with every mile North. It would be the end of the line; they’d get out and then Miles would go to the Ishvalan encampment that was up there. They’d help Olivier and Cathy too, he was sure, no, knew it in his gut. They’d not turn them away.

Olivier next to him leaning back and propping up her feet, a living cradle to the baby girl in her arms. Watched together as Cathy slowly fell asleep, Miles only when eyes were fully closed handing over the still warm food to the young mother. Dark bread, filled with ham and cheese, melted together. Both of them eating with appetite, right after taking turns sleeping.

As long as Catherine let them at last.

* * *

She saw it in his face before she saw the smoke in the distance.

There was no ishvalan camp, not anymore, that the people had been able to escape only somewhat a relief to her. Not that she wished them anything bad, but the gnawing feeling of now being stranded here, in the middle of nowhere and at the end of the line, next train only off in two days…

Olivier fought down the nervousness, looking up and down the small villages’ main street.

Miles still pale, she could understand that. He too had hoped for a safe haven up here, a place to hide at and start a new chapter from. Was sitting, she’d directed him too, head in his hands. Just breathing a bit. Good in her opinion, because it gave her time to think.

They needed to be gone, and quite quickly too if what she’d overheard was right.

That the Military who’d tried to round up the ishvalan refugees was still around, searching in the deep snow right now. Would come back, to this very village, sit in the same train back that they would have to take. And that was far too much of a risk for her. For her daughter.

Was quiet, sleeping against her chest, thankfully. The last hour of the train ride someone had opened a window slightly, but it had been enough to create a low kind of buzzing sound. And it had driven Catherine crazy, making her scream with no consolation in sight.

Miles and she had tried to find out what was wrong, many very understanding and sympathetic with the screaming little girl and them, not even some seasoned parents coming over to help able to make out the reason for her discomfort quickly. No remedy offered had helped, until the man sitting behind the open window, already angry because of the screaming child, had berated the person in front of him about the cold coming in.

Two minutes later Cathy had calmed down and settled against her, worn out.

Getting out of the train, seeing the columns of smoke in the distance almost immediately, had been a punch in the gut.

“Get a grip Miles, we need to find shelter.”

Knew that she sounded harsh, but Miles needed to ground himself in reality now. If the Military came back to this village, which they inevitably would, he’d be in grave danger.

No pair of shades could fool an Officer that was sent out to hunt Ishvalans.

“Get up, we need to find a place to stay and plan at. Need to figure something out!”

He wasn’t looking at her, Olivier glad that Catherine was sleeping the deep sleep of exhaustion.

Still held his head in his hands, doubled over almost, on the edge of the bench. Hair tousled, coat still half-open, luggage in the snow and surely turning soggy. Her own bag slung over her shoulder, one hand on Cathy’s back, she got ready to stretch out a hand and just pull him up, however little she wanted to.

His words stopping her momentarily.

“There’s nothing we can do now, there’s nowhere to go, there’s…”

Gripped his wrist, head bobbing downwards when she pulled, though Miles caught himself quickly. Got up with her silent command, rubbing his wrist right after she let go of him again. Her voice chiding, insensitive, she knew as much.

But this was a dangerous situation and she’d not risk him, or them, to get caught just because Miles decided to feel sorry for himself. There was _always_ another way after all.

“Move, we’ll figure something out. Get something to eat and a place to sleep. Keep moving!”

For whatever reason it seemed to work, as he fell into step next to her, searching through the winding alleys of the village.

* * *

He knew he was burning red.

Not that he hadn’t seen it a thousand times, but when the young mother had buttoned open her shirt at the table next to theirs, starting to nurse, the grins of his fellow tribesmen had started to widen. In tune with him turning crimson.

And worst of it all was the nursing mother, looking around a bit in the guesthouses seating area, catching his crimson face and seemingly also the deliberating shyness that had it come out like that, plaguing him with no real explanation. Smiling slightly because of it.

“Buck, what do you think, tomorrow or the day after?”

The kind words of Meriwa, clearly meant to deviate him from his own shyness, sadly doing next to nothing. Buccaneer, while aware that talking to women had always been a bit hard for him, family not included, felt no arousal at the sight of a nursing mother. It was needed, usual, something he’d truly seen often, as it was what the tribe’s women normally did, if possible. The easiest source of food of a new-born in their climate.

Yet, stuttering and turning red was to be expected, sometimes even when a women he did not know simply talked to him.

It was horrible.

Next to the nursing woman a man sitting, seemingly having noticed the way he turned red, repositioning himself with a shielded yet undeniably angry gaze. Buccaneer turned away once more, Meriwa’s question registered in his mind and an answer searched for, her gaze expectant.

His great-aunt knowing him well and waiting patiently.

“Tomorrow will be better. There’s a heavy storm coming to these parts, that we can easily outpace. Further north the weather is clear.”

“Wouldn’t the day after tomorrow, or one day more, be even better then? There’d be less risk and less haste to make.”

Nodded, looked around once more, feeling that his face was a normal colour again. The fierce-gazed man having turned his back to him and blocking the view mostly, though Buccaneer noted out of the corner of his eyes another one looking out of the corner of their eyes.

The young mother was listening in.

“The ways could very well be blocked then, there’s a heavy storm coming. We’d be stuck here, ‘cause I think south will be out of the question then too. The tracks have a limit for how much snow they can take at once, they’ll need time to free them up again.”

They’d of course heard about what happened to the camp, had waited here for a day already, letting a small storm pass. The MPs making him uncomfortable, they always did, though this establishment they stayed it, was not frequented by the military.

They did not care much for small guesthouses where everybody slept in the same straw-padded room.

The two next to them talking quietly, agitation in their voices, two already pretty drunk young man of the village playing cards and laughing loudly. Meriwa starting to knit again, producing wool and needles from the depths of her bag.

“Tomorrow it is then, we’ll need to get up early.”

Leaned back, Buccaneer too, the others of his tribe around him in deep conversation. Added in his head the money he’d earned, subtracting what he’d used for essentials they couldn’t get up the mountain. Tried to remember if he’d forgotten a gift for someone, their own little family tradition.

And somehow, through the noise of the people in the guesthouse, he could hear parts of the conversation on the table next to them.

Her voice low, somewhat cold, yet factual. His low too, unsure, despairing.

“Drachma? We could try to cross…”

Short curls shook in the corner of his vision.

“One of the tribespeople on the other table said the weather will turn. Without a guide…”

“You’re right, the mountains are treacherous.”

“Also, I’m not to sure if Drachma will truly be much safer. For you, yes, but my family is connected.”

Silence between them, or words too quiet for him to hear, until he picked up words that made his ears burn red.

“…was staring.”

“Thought of it more as flustered. You turn red too, you know? Like you’ve never seen…”

A few huffs, more quiet talking and a hint of embarrassment in his chest. Yet, he was deep in thought minutes later, mentally preparing for the journey ahead, recounting if he had everything. Pulled out of it, when the door slammed and shut the whole place up.

Buccaneer had wondered when and if the MPs would make it back from their search before the weather turned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still love you :D


	4. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being inspired by friends is the most wonderful thing in the world.
> 
> Also: TW because of a traumatic birth being in parts told of, as well as rape being alluded to. Take care!

Panic was rising within him.

Like a flood, threatening to take him with it, flushing away all coherent thought. Miles barely seeing the Officer of the Military Police, being shown the papers of the drunk boys near the door first, scowl on his face and not amused by the raunchy jokes told to him. Olivier in his vision, still nursing, looking much calmer than he deemed comfortable.

Scrambled in his mind for something he could do, a story he could come up with.

Sure, he had amestrian papers, they stated his date of birth and the place, all true. His mother was amestrian, hell, his father was half-amestrian and looking the part to boot. But that would not help him in the slightest, complexion so clear to see. If he maybe made up a story, would…

Olivier turned next to him, gaze on the tribespeople next to them, unreadable.

Would she maybe ditch him? If the MP thought that Cathy was his, looking the part or not, she’d be in danger. And while Miles trusted Olivier with his papers and lies, with wanting to escape without throwing others under the bus, he also knew one thing: For her daughter she’d leave corpses in her wake.

A poke at his back and a coat bunched up to it right after, just peppered his fear with confusion. Another held out to him, a nod by an older woman’s face into Olivier’s direction. Moreover, the big guy, the one that had stared at Olivier, putting a lone finger in front of his lips and making sure that Miles knew that they’d do the talking. The blonde at his side seconding that, by catching his gaze and nodding.

Forgot to blush because of the stress, when she pulled open her shirt a bit more again, not exposing herself but giving much more view than necessary. It barely crossed his mind that she’d already planned for a distraction.

“Papers please!”

The MP standing at the other side of the tribespeople’s low table, Miles only after a moment and a nudge from Olivier understanding that he too was to hand the papers over. Olivier collecting them, giving them to the tribeswoman with the auburn hair that was smiling at her reassuringly, who in turn handed them to the MP.

The man, small and stout, but making a face like his nose was plagued by a bad smell constantly, flipped through the papers. Sometimes paused, asked who was who. The actual tribespeople’s papers flipped through quickly, Miles stomach clenching in renewed dread when he recognized three certain papers being looked through carefully.

“Pretty rare for a man from the grass-landers to be born in Central.”

It wasn’t a question, stated as a fact rather, Miles gaping like a fish. Not able to form words, paralyzed. Olivier’s voice calm against that, speaking with the man in a way that he’d not yet heard from her. Overly friendly in a way, almost polite. If the situation wasn’t already forcing his brain into overdrive it would have astounded him.

“His Mother was stuck in labor four days, the whole travel down. It was so bad that they cut him out in Central.”

A stern gaze on her, though Miles noticed how it strayed.

“Asked him, not you.”

“Sorry Sir, but he can’t speak for himself, Sir.”

Almost demure now, he dared to call it a bit faux-dumb? Keeping his mouth even more shut now, though still panicking, kind of understanding what was happening.

“Damaged? The little one too?”

Gestured, at the nursing baby or just her almost bared boobs, Miles couldn’t say. Saw the anger flash over her face for a split-second, hoping that it wasn’t seen by the man.

“She’s fine Sir, but we traveled down for the birth to be safe.”

Nodded, their papers given another once-over. The MPs voice rough, yet with an undertone Miles could not place.

“You’re also born in Central girl? Pretty young too, huh?”

His stress made way for anger, deepening when a blush spread over Olivier’s face, one Miles could not say was fake. The one with the auburn hair now speaking up in Olivier’s stead, voice friendly, yet stern. Indignant he noted, like the MP had insulted her.

“Sir, you know young love. And you know how eager to prove their loyalty foreign brides are, right?”

Narrowed eyes from the man, though they came with a dirty grin.

“Will never understand you tribespeople fully, but if it’s your tradition to have pretty, foreign wife’s and make children with them, who am I to judge. Not my cup of tea, but I also wouldn’t live in a tent among animals, so there’s that.”

Miles able to see now, how all the other tribespeople around the table hid shaking fists, angry looks, swallowed these remarks about their people. And just to protect them, Olivier, Catherine, and him, he finally understood, because their papers were the suspicious ones. The tribespeople would’ve gotten away without a second look, even with talking back.

The auburn-haired lady was handed their papers back, Miles eternally glad that the MP had not really looked or read closely. Wandered off to the next table, glancing over them once more, gaze catching on Olivier’s body when Cathy unlatched for a moment to take a deep breath.

There was more open anger now in the tribespeople he noted, felt it rising in himself again too. Olivier though, simply re-arranged her daughter and only re-situated her clothes with a burning red face when the MP finally left.

The silence held only for a moment, before people started talking again all around, relieve washing over him. Their tables though, the tribespeople’s and their own, merging. It as the auburn-haired lady, their savior really, that talked first.

“I should maybe open with saying that my name is Meriwa and that I hope that I did not overstep.”

Handed them their papers back, Miles as a middleman handing Olivier hers and Cathy’s to stow away, while Meriwa talked on.

“And I have to apologize, because while I noticed that you three needed a cover, I was not keen on making up these horrible lies.”

Olivier found her words first, blush still turning her face crimson.

“No, we have to thank you, otherwise… I don’t want to imagine.” Turned to him at that, with a sincerity he’d not yet seen, “I’m so sorry Miles, for saying what I said. I just ran with the story and wanted to get the MP to leave us alone. I never wanted to…”

Her gaze was clear while she spoke to him, voice sincere, but full of remorse. He smiled.

“Don’t worry yourself, it was the best course of action. Though I must ask,” turned to the tribespeople, furrowing his brows, “what _is_ a grass-lander?”

The whole group slowly relaxing again, coats passed back around, and seating re-arranged. The big young man spoke up, the one that had stared. Miles did not expect the even voice.

“It’s a derogatory term to a tribe that lives in the plains far to the east. They have skin that is colored a lot like yours and have extremely specific customs. Southerners tend to brand them as dumb for that. I’m sorry that we had to use these stereotypes to our advantage, we did not want to insinuate anything.”

Shook his head at that, for the first time again noticing that he still had his wooly hat on. That’s why there had been no reaction to his white hair.

“The glasses helped with the story?”

It was Meriwa that spoke again.

“And that the young lady masked your accent with her quick thinking.”

Olivier mouthed sorry once more, though he waved it away.

Her words were a side-effect of being on the run, were a grand distraction and had kept them safe. Now they had another chance, could search for a new out of their situation. Olivier here too seemingly having found a way because Miles felt ideas and plans forming in his mind already when they exchanged more talk with the tribespeople.

Meriwa the one asking them close to midnight, guestroom turning into a makeshift bunkhouse, if they’d want to travel with them come morning.

They only had to exchange a look before saying yes.

* * *

It was uncomfortable with three women peering at her privates, very much so even.

Felt the heat in her cheeks, pushed memories away and tried to keep calm, Cathy next to her on a thick towel and sleeping soundly in the warm and humid air of the bathhouse. In front of her Meriwa, who’d travelled with them and had admitted to having recognized her from the papers. A woman named Atiqtalik, the mother of the young man from the guesthouse who’d first made eye-contact with her and in whose house they were staying. William his name and incredibly shy around her but having shown his kindness the day of their meeting and on the sleigh-ride back plenty of times.

And then there was the old lady whom everybody called Ahnah, which was apparently more of a title than a name. She was incredibly stoop and wrinkly, was maybe peering at her privates or maybe not, because Olivier was unsure if there even were eyes behind the heavy lids. She’d gathered though, that this woman was the true authority.

“How long have you labored?”

Atiqtalik’s voice kind, dark brows tightly drawn together. They’d only arrived at the tribes’ winter home an hour ago and when filled in by her son and sister in law, the woman now asking her this question had demanded that she be brought to the bathhouse. Why, she wasn’t sure until asked to strip.

Olivier thinking about the question, trying to push everything else surrounding that day away.

“I think about fifteen hours, maybe a bit longer. It’s what the nurses said, there was no clock.”

She’d been asked only little by Meriwa, who’d clearly quickly been sure that while Miles helped her in every way, he simply wasn’t the girl’s biological father. And as Meriwa had cited having read the papers also, not prying, but talking of facilities where young girls were sometimes brought to have children, Olivier had acknowledged that this was what had happened. There being more to it not something she’d wanted to discuss sitting on a sleigh, others in earshot. Truly not really wanted to think about at all.

Atiqtalik did not ask too much about the circumstances, seemingly knowing that it wasn’t the time, that she already was only a hair away from getting up and grabbing her stuff. Had clearly seen her shaking hands after all, the stiffness in her form. Though Olivier knew that it was for the best that someone made sure that not only Cathy was alright, but she also.

“In which position were you when giving birth?”

She shooed the memory of stern shouts away, trying to be factual.

“I was kneeling on the bed.”

The touches were light, much lighter than she’d have expected from her experiences. Eyes sincere when on her own, open, sympathetic without pity.

“There is no tearing, so that is always good, and you are healing well. Before I could feel that your uterus is shrinking properly, you show no signs of infection either. Can you tell me how you were led through the process, did they let you make decisions?”

She pushed the pain away that welled up inside of her, the fear.

“They… I was not told a lot. I was to do as they say and to keep from pushing when it was too early. That I should… that I should not let myself tear, that this would make me… me _bad_ for later.” Breathed through her nose, closed her eyes, trying to keep her composure. Tried to ignore the gazes on her when she spoke on, words pushing forward against her will, “When she was there and I asked to hold her, they… they took her away. Said that I should forget this happened.”

Breathed more erratically, could do nothing against what was working through her.

“I didn’t… I was,” felt the tears run down her face, didn’t even think of wiping them away. She’d held back the whole journey and now she was here, someone was finally _listening_. Nobody moving to take her little girl, “I think one of them deliberately left a door open. Once it was night and I could get up I found her and ran away.”

Was sobbing, was ashamed of herself for it. Did not want to be weak, could not be weak, her daughter needed her! She had a lot to learn, would need to work past this, to be the best mother she could be! She needed to make a place for herself, impress these people with their her, so they’d let her stay. Nobody had need for a weepy young mother, nobody…

Something broke in her when arms wrapped around her. Nakedness not cared about, the warmth even pleasant, the strength with which she was held. The old lady with one hand swiping at her tears, with the other soothingly caressing her shoulders. Encouraging her Olivier understood, only encouraging her.

“When out I… I,” spoke through the tears, needed it out, needed these people to know. Needed to get rid of this sadness and anger inside of her, “In the papers there was my face and that I stole my parent’s child, my sibling. And pictures of my mother weeping. All the while she… she…she let it happen!”

Almost screamed, buried her face in Ahnah’s skin, warm and soft. Was held impossibly tighter, old memories evoked, good memories. Sobbed more, though felt herself grow calmer again, felt another hand on her shoulder, heard sniffing. The other women feeling with her she understood.

Not disgusted. Not faulting her. Only understanding what she’d been through.

Ahnah let go of her, but remained sitting close by, speaking soft words in what Olivier guessed was the tribe’s language. Meriwa just as softly translated.

“If you are sure, if you want to be the mother they wanted to deny you to be, you are welcome to stay. And if you don’t want to be, you’ll be welcome too, as one of ours either way. Nobody will judge, a good home will be found. You’ll be one of ours, we’ll care for the both of you, help you and teach you, whichever which way.”

There were still tears running down her face when she spoke, pushed out by this inexplicable feeling of happiness.

“I want to keep her; I want to be her mother.”

There was no further discussion, only smiles, kisses to her forehead. A waking Catherine wiggling easily picked up by her without much ado.

She suddenly felt like they had a chance. A real chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First: Why did you read through all of this?!  
And Secondly: I'm sorry this is a bit shorter than usual, but I felt that this as a chapter ending just fit super well^^

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> And let's not pretend that anything I've ever written down here in any way, shape or form has influenced if a person interacted with my fic *shrugs once more*


End file.
